Boys, Bears, and A Serious Pair of Hiking Boots

by Abby McDonald

  “Wait, Fiona!” I scramble out of the car. “Where are you going? It’s not even noon. Where should we meet?”

  Turning back, she shrugs. “You think I’m spending another minute with you two? Call me tonight!” And with that, she all but jogs away.

  “I guess it’s just us then.” Ethan joins me, hands bunched in his front pockets and a small nylon messenger bag slung across his body. He looks around, nonchalant at the idea of spending the afternoon together. “What’s the plan?”

  I regroup, pulling out my scribbled list. It’s probably a good thing I won’t have Fiona hanging around, making fun of my new task. “Well, there is something you can help me with. . . .”

  “You want what?” Ethan says dubiously. Thirty minutes later, we’ve consumed half our weight in French fries in the yellow Formica food court. Now it’s time for work.

  “Hiking boots and a backpack,” I confirm. “Sturdy shorts, waterproof socks — you get the idea.”

  We’re standing in the middle of a vast outdoor activity store, surrounded on all sides by racks and rails full of functional, expensive clothing. By the looks of the array of labels on display, the collected scientific knowledge of the West has been directed at keeping hikers that little bit drier.

  “Sure you don’t just want to go to the Gap?” he asks, still faintly disbelieving.

  “I need this stuff. My summer gear is more suited to, well, sunbathing,” I admit, distracted by the video screen on the far wall — a pair of climbers dangling from a vertical rock face with their bare hands. I feel a lurch of vertigo just looking at them, so I quickly turn back to Ethan. “I want to be able to join in with all the activities you guys do,” I explain. “I mean, can you see me out hiking in these?” I point down at my jeans for illustration. They’re fitted, with frayed edges that are crying out to get caught on a stray tree root and send me tumbling over a cliff or something.

  “OK, then we should probably go with the basics.” Ethan seems to be warming to the task. He puts his hands on his hips and looks around like he’s an explorer, set to conquer foreign lands. Which is exactly what I need. “Let’s start at the feet and work our way up.”

  “Jenna! Phone!”

  I drag my head up from my pillow and squint at my cell in disbelief. Seven a.m. People are alive at this hour? Alive, and calling me?

  “Jenna!”

  “Coming!” I manage to yell back. Fiona makes a groaning noise and pulls her covers up over her head. For once, I know how she feels. We stayed late in Kamloops for a movie and Chinese food, and by the time we got back, I was sleeping like a dead person in the backseat. If it hadn’t been for Ethan gently shaking me awake, I’m guessing Fiona would have left me curled up out there all night.

  I stumble out of her bedroom, skidding downstairs and only narrowly missing that gaping pit of doom in the hallway.

  “Morning, sweetie.” Susie hands me the phone with a sparkle in her eye.

  “Hmmmhm,” I yawn, eyes still half-shut. I don’t even wait for a word before putting the phone to my ear. “Mom, there’s something called a time difference, you remember that, right?”

  “Uh, hi, Jenna.”

  It’s not my mom. Unless she’s had a sex change.

  “Oh, hey, sorry.” I’m paying attention now. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Ethan.” He sounds suspiciously awake. “Is this a bad time, because I could call back later and —”

  “No, no, it’s fine!” Susie is still beaming at me, so I shoo her away and wander through to the kitchen. But I have to admit, I’m curious. “What’s up?”

  “Well, me and the guys were just going to head out riding, shooting some stuff for the next video. You want to come along?”

  “A ride, like, horseback?”

  He laughs. “No, mountain bikes. There are some cool trails up in the hills, and we’ve got some old spares lying around you could use. But don’t worry if you can’t make it — I just thought . . .”

  “No! I mean, yes, I’d love to come!” I’m in shock: an actual invitation to join in? My tiredness gives way to excitement. “When did you want to meet?”

  There’s a pause. “Uh, we’re actually leaving in ten minutes.”

  What?

  “I’m sorry it’s so last-minute,” he continues. “I should have mentioned something yesterday, but I didn’t even think of it.”

  “That’s OK,” I answer faintly, trying to calculate how much time I’ll need to shower, dress, and, you know, eat. “I can do that, no problem.”

  “You can? That’s great. We’ll pick you up in a while.”

  “Uh-huh.” I hang up, just in time to hear the only working shower in the house start upstairs. “Fionaaaaaaa!”

  I manage to make it out to the front porch ten seconds before the boys arrive. Thanks to my awesome roomie’s timing, I haven’t had time to shower or brush my teeth, but that’s what deodorant and gum are for, right?

  “Hey.” Ethan bounds up the steps with the kind of enthusiasm it would take me three lattes to achieve. It’s still cloudy out, and he’s bundled up in a loose gray sweatshirt emblazoned with that sports logo I’ve seen Grady wear. I asked Adam about it, and he says it’s for the Vancouver ice-hockey team. Ice hockey is big out here. “All set?”

  “Sure!” Despite longing for the snug comfort of bed, I can’t wait to get going. “I’m ready for action.”

  “And you’re all outfitted, too.” He takes in my clothing.

  “Yeah, I was thinking about going for a skirt and halter,” I joke. “But since I had these lying around . . .” I’m wearing my brand-new lightweight trail shoes: a sale bargain, along with the sturdy navy long-cut shorts I picked up.

  “Cool. There are some great trails we’ve been exploring, away from the main road and with awesome slopes.” Ethan’s voice is relaxed, but I still feel a tremor of nerves as I follow him out to the truck. It’s even muddier than last time I saw it, complete with a clutch of mountain bikes strapped precariously in the flatbed, but it’s what’s inside that’s worrying me. Or rather, who.

  “Hi.” I clamber awkwardly up into the main cab, squeezing against Grady. Ethan climbs in after me, until we’re all crammed together on the passenger side while Reeve stretches out in the relative comfort of the driver’s seat. I’m jammed between denim and faded T-shirts, so close I can smell the faint citrus smell of body wash and that manly deodorant scent.

  I think of my own hasty hygiene routine this morning and wonder if maybe I should have fought harder for the bathroom.

  “Hey.” Grady grunts from under his baseball cap, and goes back to flipping through the radio dial. Reeve only nods in my general direction before starting the engine again and kicking us into gear. Casual, I get the message.

  “Thanks for the invite,” I begin, still feeling out of place as we follow the road farther up into the forest. “I’ve never really tried dirt bikes, but it sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah, well, this is just the kind of thing I need to get for the website,” Ethan replies easily. On my other side, Grady finally lets the station stay on an indie rock song and sits back, his elbow digging into me. His hair is damp from the shower (oh, the shower!) and it drips slowly onto my bare shoulder.

  “How’s that going?” I try to shift the other way, but that only presses me tighter against Ethan. “I brought the camera, like you said.”

  “Thanks. I’ve set up the basic page,” he replies, “and uploaded the kayaking footage.” At this, Grady makes a kind of snorting sound, but I try to ignore the memory of being upended into freezing cold water.

  “Have you had many hits?” I ask, determined to keep the conversation going.

  “Like, five?” He laughs. “But I’m not sending out the address until there’s more up.”

  “True. I should take some photos of the B and B, but right now it would only scare them off!”

  Ethan laughs, and I feel the vibrations against my side. “Yeah, what I’ve seen of the place isn’t
exactly luxurious.”

  “Never mind luxurious,” I add. “It’s still practically a health hazard.” We suddenly speed around a bend, and I’m thrown against him.

  “Ahem, don’t mind us,” Grady mutters on my other side, kind of sarcastic.

  “Sorry,” I apologize quickly, trying to disentangle myself.

  “Don’t worry — I can take it.” Ethan looks amused. Grady makes another snorting sound. I look around, but nobody explains.

  “Anyway, I’m really hoping this website project works,” I eventually finish, deciding to ignore their in-jokes. Something’s going way over my head, but I guess that’s just what happens when you’re new in town.

  “Come on, give it a try!” Ethan cycles a slow loop around me later in the afternoon. After watching the boys hurl themselves down steep trails with no concern for the risk of breaking their necks and/or vital limbs, I decided to take on official filming duties — from the safety of a solid mound of dirt.

  “I’m fine here!” I protest, still filming. Sunlight falls through the tree branches, dappling us with light, and I try to make the scene look as picturesque as possible — despite the mud streaking his face and the fresh bruises on his legs.

  “You’ve got enough footage by now,” he argues, speeding up. The tires slip against the dirt as he circles me on the incline, and I start to get dizzy just watching him. “Besides, isn’t the whole point to show a newbie doing all this? Unless you get on the bike yourself, it’s not the same.”

  “I don’t know.” I gulp. “I usually stick to flat terrain.”

  “Coming through!”

  I jump back as Grady and Reeve come racing down the hill. They whoop past us, going at least twenty miles an hour, before disappearing into the thick undergrowth. “How can they even see where they’re going?” I gape.

  Ethan laughs. “You just hang on and hope for the best.”

  “I’m beginning to think that’s a theme with you guys.”

  “You can start slowly,” he points out. “You do have breaks.”

  I waver. Despite the sheer insanity, there is a small part of me that does want to try — to experience whatever it is that has the guys yelling with such triumphant abandon.

  “OK,” I say, suddenly brave. I edge down from my hill. “I’ll do it.”

  “Awesome.” Ethan is already dismounting. “I’ll take that.” Before I can back out, he’s exchanging the video camera for gloves and kneepads. Fully protected, I walk slowly over to where “my” bike is resting against a tree.

  “Brakes, pedals . . .” Ethan points out, joking. I fasten a helmet on and swing one leg over. “Seat height OK?”

  I nod, not sure I’d know if it wasn’t.

  “Then you’re all set.”

  I gather my courage, grip the handlebars, and push off, walking with my tiptoes for as long as possible before finally wobbling along. “Have fun!” he yells after me as — clutching the brakes for dear life — I slowly roll down the first hill.

  OK, I tell myself: you can do this.

  The ground is muddy, sending splashes of dirt onto my bare legs as I wheel through puddles, but it seems that as long as I keep the brakes on, my speed stays below heart-attack level. Swallowing back my fear, I keep my eyes peeled for obstacles and animals, swerving around the twisting trail like it’s a minefield assault course. And to me, it is.

  Again, I have to wonder about the Stillwater definition of fun.

  “You going to let it go anytime soon?” Reeve swoops up the hill toward me, pedaling fast. He circles around, drawing level, and rolls along beside me. I don’t answer, slowly clutching and releasing the brakes in a jerky motion to keep control. “The whole point is the speed!”

  “I’d rather stay alive,” I answer, carefully steering around a small hill just as he bounds right over it.

  “I thought you were the fast one,” he says cryptically, before skidding past me and around another bend.

  I push on, my hands beginning to cramp with all this braking. Clutch, release; clutch, release. Then the ground begins to level out and I realize the major flaw in my “slow but steady” plan: heading down the hill at a snail’s pace may have avoided mortal injury, but now I’m facing my first incline, and I don’t have any kind of momentum to get me over it. I start to pedal, pushing myself up the slope with sheer thigh-work.

  “I know,” I tell my legs as they begin to ache in protest. “This isn’t fair. I haven’t prepared you for this. But I can’t quit now — they’ll never respect me if I don’t finish the trail.” And with Reeve and Grady’s opinion of me hovering somewhere around zero, the only way to go — literally — is up.

  “Oh, Lord, thank you.” I reach the top of the hill with relief. The rest of the course stretches out in front of me, nothing but more steep slopes, hills, and bends winding their way across the woodland. If I keep going at this rate, I’ll never finish. Or maybe . . .

  What the hell.

  I say a silent prayer and let go of the brakes, flying down the slope at twice my previous speed. Bouncing over twigs and rocks, I cling for dear life, but it works. The momentum carries me up the next hill and down again, even faster this time.

  “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” I can’t help but cry out as I hurtle along. It’s like being on a roller coaster — only without the safety of a solid carriage and track. I brush past branches, ducking and swerving away from oncoming trees, and all the while, my heart is racing faster than these wheels.

  So this is what they do it for — the rush, the adrenaline that’s sparking in my veins.

  I gasp for breath, flying along another stretch of trail until at last my bike begins to slow. Pulling to a halt on the top of a steep slope, I lift off my helmet and shake out my hair, glad of the cool air on my sweaty neck. An incredible glow is spreading all the way through me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way: so brave, and exhilarated, and scared half to death all at the same time.

  “Hey,” Grady pulls up next to me, sweat marks showing through his red T-shirt and mud streaked across his face. “Can you tell my brother not to hog the camera? I want Reeve to get shots of me doing some jumps, OK?”

  “Tell him yourself.” I grin, stretching my arms. “You’ll probably get back to him sooner.”

  “Yeah, but he’s pissed at me for splashing mud near the precious equipment. And anyway, he’ll listen to you.”

  “He will?” I repeat dubiously. “Why’s that?”

  Grady gives me a knowing look. “Because you’re the one hooking up with him.”

  With that, he takes off down the hill.

  Only a fool goes charging into a pack and expects anything more than a headache and an empty belly. Focus on lone animals instead, and pick them off when they stray from the herd.

  —“Hunting Tactics,”

  The Modern Mountain Man’s Survival Guide

  I want to kill Ethan. But I don’t. Despite all my hurt and confusion, it’s clear that blowing up at him would be my final strike. I don’t want to wreck the friendly vibe I’ve finally got going with the guys, so I bite my lip and keep a lid on my anger for the rest of the day. I finish my ride, sit quietly, and even manage to smile at the right moments while he jokes around with Grady and Reeve, acting as if nothing’s wrong.

  But I still can’t believe what he’s done.

  Even Olivia is no consolation. “Do you even know it’s him talking?” she asks immediately. As soon as I get back to the house, I hit my speed dial. “It could just be the other guys jumping to conclusions, teasing him or whatever.”

  “Nope, it’s him.” I find an empty, half-finished bedroom upstairs and collapse. I have mud splattered all over my legs and an unfamiliar ache in my arms, but worse still is how hurt I feel. After our trip to the city, I thought we were friends. “They were making comments all day, kind of teasing him about it. I didn’t realize at first, but now it makes complete sense. And he was going along with it!”

  “Is it really so bad? I mean, mayb
e he’s just got a crush on you. You did say he was cute,” Livvy points out. I hear something in her voice.

  “You OK?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, I’m just kind of tired. We started a total sugar fast yesterday. Cash says it’s really good for your system, but I’m crashing hard.”

  “Is that what you’re supposed to do — cut it out entirely?” I frown. Olivia is like the candy queen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without some chocolate or a sugary snack in her bag.

  “I’ll be fine,” she promises. “It just shows how addicted I am! Alan — he’s one of the group leaders here — he says that we need to pay as much attention to like, our own health, as we do the planet’s.”

  “Umm, cool. And no, this isn’t just a playground thing,” I add. “I mean, the way Grady said ‘hooking up,’ he meant hooking up, and you don’t go around trashing a girl’s reputation if you like her. At least not if you ever want her to speak to you again.” I remember how cool Ethan has been, the fun we had hanging out yesterday. “It doesn’t make sense!”

  “You need to talk to him, find out what he’s been saying.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “I just figured it would be best if I cooled down first. Violence is not the answer — isn’t that what they’re always telling us?”

  Talking to Ethan may be my plan, but he seems to have a different idea. I call twice that night, and again the next morning, but I just can’t reach him. His mom, on the other hand, sounds delighted to “finally” speak to me.

  “I’ll let him know you called!” she coos. “I don’t know where he’s at right now, but I know he’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

  “Umm, thanks,” I answer slowly, leaving my cell number. “If he could just call . . .”

  “Sure, sweetie. See you soon!”

  “Did you and lover boy have a fight?” Fiona appears behind me in the hall, making me jump.

  “Don’t sneak around like that!” I exclaim, hanging up. “And no. Where did you hear that, anyway?”